


"Thats What I Was Suggesting."

by addictedtothefandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John, Gen, Wheelchairs, gayness is yayness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedtothefandoms/pseuds/addictedtothefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is paralyzed from the waist down. Lots of johnlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Thats What I Was Suggesting."

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to get this fic up but I'm to slow to get it up all at once so it will be in two parts.

Its been about fourteen hours since Ive seen him. I am a nervous wreck, waiting. The doctor walks out looking grim. “What, what is it!!”

I am panicking, trying to clam myself. “John, calm down” the doctor says to me. “He’s alright.”

This calms me down enough to listen. “Sherlock has had some nerve damage”

“Dear god”, I mutter.

“Because of the injury his lower spinal nerves have been damaged”

“No. no. no.” I stubbornly think to myself, maybe aloud.

“He will never be able to walk again.”.

I am stunned. I was standing but suddenly I am sitting.

Fourteen hours ago me and Sherlock were on a case. A group of suspicious gang murders, not his favorite but he needed something to do. We had to split up looking for leads. Sherlock insisted that he take the more dangerous route, “For your safety John”.

Flashback

I walk along looking for graffiti, signs, anything that to point us in the right direction when BANG. I automatically duck as the bullet whizzes past my head. I pull out my gun, empty. I back away. I soon hit the graffitied wall behind me. I am cornered. I hear Sherlocks voice, “John, where are you?!” 

Sherlock is on a fire escape above me. He sees my situation thinking of a way to save me. Just before the gun fires, in a desperate attempt of heroics, he leaps form the building. Somewhere in his fall the bullet hits him in his back. When he lands I see the wound. “No, god, Sherlock, no”

Just as he is slipping out of consciousness I hear him breathe the words “m’okay...”

The ambulance arrives and they have to pry me from him. Lestrade is there trying to comfort me in that awkward Lestrade way. They allow me into the ambulance as we drive to the hospital. Sherlock is lying there, looking lifeless as machines whirr and the ambulance crew work on him. We arrive and they hurry him in. I am still in a daze, not fully understanding what is happening.

Again Lestrade is here dealing with the more legal aspects of things. “Who should we contact, Whats the insurance number, Who was the shooter. Im just sitting here, waiting. Three hours later, waiting. Six hours later, coffee, waiting. Finally, six and a half hours later, the doctor walks out. “John, I’m just coming to let you know he is alive, but we can’t be sure he will survive, we are still working on him.”

“Jesus”, I whisper to myself.

The doctor asks “Are you ok John?”

“He’s going to be fine.” I say to the doctor but more to myself.

He doesn’t really care about Sherlock he’s just a doctor. He sees people die and pretends to care. I was like that.

The doctor doesn’t know about our relationship. He thinks I am a colleague, a friend maybe, who just cares. No, I am more than that. The unspoken laws between me and Sherlock. I can date, he can be asexual but we will always be a couple. As I remember on that Irene Adler case I said to her “We’re not a couple.” “Yes you are.” she responded. We were both true. I’m not gay, Sherlocks not gay but we are a couple. Sherlock will always win.

I walk into his room. Sherlock is lying on his hospital bed with tubes and wires sticking out of him. When I sit down in the chair next to him he wakes up. “Hello” I say.

“H’lo” he vaguely responds. 

He looks pale and sickly. I impatiently sit, holding his hand, listening to the beep...beep...beep... of the heart monitor. They allow me to sleep in his room on a little padded bench. Sleeping is the hardest, waiting is ok but I cant sleep. I am starting to relax when I hear Sherlocks voice. “John...” he whispers. “Come over here.”

“What do you need?” I ask.

“You...”

“Me?” I respond, surprised. 

Sherlock isn’t somebody who needs people, at least not out loud. I sit on his bed, careful to avoid the space age machines that surround him. “I’m cold John.”

“Would you like me to get you a blanket or turn the heat on?”

“No.” he suggestively says.

I squirm into his bed getting trapped in the wires keeping my (boy)friend alive. When I finally fall asleep Sherlocks head is on my shoulder, his hand on my chest.

 

End Flashback

When Sherlock and I finnaly leave the hospital I ask him, “So how are you feeling about this.”

“Lets not disect my feelings right now John.”

Sherlock doesn’t like the wheel chair. It makes him feel helpless, like he can’t hold himself up. It’s like me and the cane. “What do you want to do?” I tentativley ask.

“Get a case, what else is there to do.” 

“Of course” I think to myself.

When we get out of the cab, a rather difficult maneuver, we go and confront Mrs. Hudson. And the stairs. When she sees Sherlock in the wheel chair she gasps, “Sherlock, what have you done!”

“I saved John’s life.”

“See I told you won’t be needing that bedroom upstairs.”

“Mrs. Hudson.”, I respond.

“Were not in any sort of relationship.”

“Oh of course dear.”

We have decided that Sherlock had better stay downstairs until we get one of those old lady stair chairs. He hated this idea but we get one anyway. “I don’t need a stupid stair chair!” he exclaims one evening. 

“You could move.” I suggest.

“No.” he quickly says.

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t come with me...”

“Of course I would.”

But I don’t say my true thoughts out loud. I don’t say that I would never leave him, that I will always love him.

**Author's Note:**

> Review???


End file.
